


Screaming at the Sun

by Toastie_Pan



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blood, M/M, Poison, Violence, bamf moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:34:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27944630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toastie_Pan/pseuds/Toastie_Pan
Summary: Drabble for @Annatheloon!Based on the game on Twitter of give me a pairing and a number to correspond to my Spotify 2020 Wrapped playlist!I was given Gladnis and number 30!Song : Screaming at the Sun by Machine Head! So this is a bit unpolished and a bit gory. The Empire have taken the Citadel. Time to take it back.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	Screaming at the Sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SimpleLoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimpleLoon/gifts).



Ignis rose his head from where it had been pinned to the ground by a polished leather boot, swallowing the urge to spit out the blood that filled his mouth. His glare would have frozen even the Glacian to submission had its intended recipient been watching, but no; he was taking his time moving to the gold gilt side table, the black lacquered wood scratched and dented in insult to its prior beauty.  


Caligo smiled from where he carefully fingered the tops of the various decanters filled with various intoxicating components each there for his enjoyment and delight. The grunts of his captive trying to right his beaten body from the floor only added to his glee. Finally, House Ulldor was granted the riches it so thusly deserved.  


‘So cruel of the Cael-‘  


‘You have not the right to speak their name!’  


The boot came down swiftly, a crack echoing through the silent fire-lit room, Ignis’ scream forcibly slammed behind his teeth. He’d not give the worm the satisfaction.  


The clink of glass and silver rang out as he pulled up the decanters to sniff, after a moment he grabbed a fine etched glass tumbler, filling it with amber liquid.  


‘Now. Oh Great Advisor. Drink.’  


Ignis’ green eyes flashed violent fire at the man before him and the grin that swept across Caligo’s face filled with the triumph of one who snatched the mouse before it could escape the maze.  


‘I am no fool, Advisor. I’d have thought poison beneath you though I am not foolish enough to truly ignore the possibility.’ He strode over, leaning over the beaten young man, ‘so please. Drink.’  


This time he did spit, right onto the polished leather that had so willingly and enthusiastically spent the better part of an hour riddling his skin with blooming flowers of ruptured vessels and the fist against his jaw that slammed his head into the ground was worth it to mar the man at least in some way.  


His jaw was gripped and forced upwards, the glass pressed against his lips. Ignis tried to pull away but the amber liquid swept down his throat in a bitter fire before he could wrestle against it. He swallowed, coughed; the seconds ticked away.  


‘How marvellous,’ Caligo laughed at last, ‘at least this one I can enjoy.’  


Caligo smirked, heading back to the tray as Ignis wrestled his way back to kneeling.  


‘Though…ah! Of course, let us enjoy this correctly.’ Ignis watched beneath his bangs, sweat sticking to his forehead as he tracked Caligo going over to a glass cabinet, opening the doors with a flourish.  


‘Well well well, what do we have here? A goblet fit for a King.’  


Caligo snickered as he traced past the dusty glasses, fingers quick to grab the exquisite goblet, gold and beautifully embossed with sweeping vines and red flowers, picked out in jewels. He grinned as he made his way back to the drink, eager to tip a generous portion of liquor into it and greedily drink it as he sat on the chair.  


His mood soured however, when he saw Ignis smirk.  


‘Got something to say boy?’  


Instead of answering, Ignis looked over to the clock on the wall, watching the second hand tick. Tick. Tick.  


Caligo coughed.  


Tick.  


A strangled sound erupted from his throat.  


Tick.  


Ignis stood.  


Caligo hit the floor, blood spilling from his mouth, eyes bulging wide.  


‘Now that was smart, Mr. Ulldor.’ Ignis grinned stepping forward, his struggles before suddenly swept from his limbs and Caligo realised in his panic he had been had. ‘You see I am not beneath poison. But to think I would ruin a Cavaugh 586 with something so crass? You wound me.’  


Caligo crawled across the carpet, his heart seizing in his chest, Ignis’ foot easily turned the man onto his back as his body shook.  


‘That garish goblet however? Well…’  


In the fire-lit darkened room, Caligo gasped his last as Ignis watched impassively.  


Down goes the rook and if Ignis was correct; the pawn was about to go down too.

  


* * *

  


Gladio swung his fist into the soldier’s face, the leather wrapped around his knuckles protecting them from cracking. The impact still sent a spike of pain up his arm that he was quick to ignore. Turning he kicked out, taking out the other behind him before striding forward, taking the head between his large palms and wrenching the man’s neck. The soldier dropped and Gladiolus turned back to the first, pulling out the dagger from the man’s belt and embedding it cleanly into his throat. Refusing to wait for the man to stop jerking, he quickly searched the man, finding the keys he was after.  


After a few attempts he found the right ones. Off went his chains and open went the bars of his prison. Turning the dagger in his grip, Gladiolus headed out quickly towards the main area, glad to see the others had done their job too. He looked at the clock.  


He was running late.  


The Empire thought they could fix themselves up in the Citadel? They thought they could hold his heart hostage and parade the Prince as their puppet?  


Gladiolus grinned wide as he saw Cor walk in with the Glaives. The old dog still wouldn’t die it would seem. Good. They needed them all to make this work, he just hoped Ignis had succeeded, for if he didn’t…  


No. He wouldn’t say.  


Ignis succeeded. He always did.  


The buzzer sounded and the gates opened wide. Their brothers in arms free at last. With Niflheim’s garrison taken, their pawn was down. Now to finish this.  


  


* * *

  


Prompto swayed from where he was suspended from the ceiling, MT eyes following him as he swung like a pendulum. He’d be feigning unconsciousness for a while now, blood tacky against his face and his body.  


Swing. Swing.  


It never takes much to increase how far the rope could go, just a bit of push here, a tug there. A slow game and unlike his energetic young self, this monster born from the darkness he'd been forced into had patience.  


He had all the patience in the world.  


The alarm blared, his eyes opened.  


One last grunt off effort and he reached the wall his legs pushed out to grab the edge. His muscles clenched hard to swing himself up and up, the MTs moving towards him with their guns drawn. Gripping at the rope that held onto him he swung down, kicking out into the MT’s face before kicking into the other. The blade it held span up and up.  


Catch, slice and down he went. A feral grin split his face before anger cloaked his features, blade in hand he charged, his scream echoing through the chamber, lost in the cacophony of explosions.

  


* * *

  


The King stood shakily by the Throne, the young Prince not so quick to reclaim his Throne following the taking of Insomnia by the Empire and their bloody hard-fought battle to bring the Empire to its knees.  


Ignis turned to Gladiolus, nerves skittering though him for what reason he didn’t know. Gladiolus furrowed his brow at the clear worry on his heart’s face.  


‘What is it?’  


Ignis shook his head, turning back to his King.  


‘…must be coming down from the adrenaline…never mind.’  


Gladiolus grasped Ignis’ hand tightly as they watched Noctis sit upon the Throne with a shaky sigh. The King was on his Throne once more and Prompto jumping up in joy even brought a chuckle to the unready Prince, now King.  


Screaming at the sun against all the odds, they had made their move. When stood side by side, even the vast might of the Empire is quick to find themselves outnumbered. Quick to find themselves outmatched.


End file.
